Everything Happens for a Reason
by clicketykeys
Summary: LS Sith Warrior Jerusha Yoh doesn't particularly like Captain Malavai Quinn. But as part of a small team on a small ship, it becomes more and more difficult to avoid him...
1. An Uncomfortable Conversation

**Scene 1: An Uncomfortable Conversation**

* * *

Sitting in her cabin aboard the _Revenge_, the feared Sith warrior Jerusha Yoh carefully examined each component of her well-worn armor, checking for any pieces that needed to be repaired. Darth Baras had ordered them to Tatooine, and the jawas who lived on that planet were renowned for their mechanical skills. She heard the engines settling into a lower register, gearing up for the jump to hyperspace. A moment later, the sublight drives dropped out, and they cruised along in near-silence.

The alert on her comm panel began to flash, and she looked over at it with a slight frown. Three quick blinks, then a pause, repeated. Drat – that meant that it wasn't a message, but someone was waiting for her to respond. Sighing, she stood and walked over, looking more closely at the display. The signal had come from the bridge. _Double drat._ She let out another sigh.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she touched her fingers to the panel. "Yes, Captain? Is everything all right?"

The clarity of the ship's comm system seemed to emphasize the crisp, precise tones of the officer's High Imperial accent. "Yes, my lord," he responded immediately. "We are successfully en route. However, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you, if you have a moment."

_Force preserve us._ While Jerusha could not deny his effectiveness as a medic, given the speed of her recovery under his care (even considering her unusual physiology), nor his abilities as a pilot, she found his near-fanatical patriotism unsettling, to say the least. Then there was his fawning servility. Normally such an attitude would come across as phony – but in Quinn's case, the fact that he actually seemed sincere only made it worse. They already had one obsequious droid on the ship; there wasn't need for another one, dammit.

But telling him to piss off wasn't going to improve matters in the least. "Certainly," she replied instead. "I'll be right there."

She left the armor on the bed and shrugged a robe on over her undertunic, cinching the belt as she padded through the central conference room in her stockings. The protocol droid began to blather as she approached – something about the air filtration unit – but she ignored it and turned through the short hall that led up to the bridge.

Beside the navcomputer stood Captain Malavai Quinn, hands clasped behind his back in a strict parade rest. Jerusha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "At ease, Captain," she said, trying to keep her voice free of any trace of annoyance. "Please feel free to speak... ah... freely." _Well, that could have been worse, I suppose._ If nothing else, listening to Quinn would give her practice dealing with protocol-obsessed bureaucrats.

He cleared his throat, letting his hands rest by his sides – though his posture remained unforgivingly straight. "My lord, I'd appreciate it if you would speak with Vette. Ask her not to disturb me when I'm working."

_Which is all the time._ Jerusha simply nodded, though. "What seems to be the problem?"

Quinn's eyebrows twitched in irritation. "She's not wired for military precision. And there's no filter on that twi'lek mouth."

The Sith tensed ever so slightly. Despite being caught mid-rant, Quinn noticed, and his momentary hesitation gave her an opening she didn't have to force. "Just what is it about her mouth being twi'lek that makes it so particularly objectionable?" she asked, her voice deceptively smooth.

But to his credit, Quinn recognized the underlying threat and backtracked rapidly. "Simply that it's clear that she was not raised with an appreciation for decorum, such as would be expected in an Imperial household." He cleared his throat, his stance somehow even more rigid than before. "Though I have chosen not to pry, her behavior suggests that her... dealings... with the Empire are fairly recent."

One dark brow arched. "You mean her enslavement?" Jerusha kept her tone mild, but she watched Quinn's reaction carefully.

"I was not aware that Vette was still a slave, my lord," he replied without so much as a blink.

_Riposte. Nicely done._ "She isn't. But it's my understanding that her 'service' to Darth Baras is what introduced her into our society." Her smile was thin. "At any rate, what is she saying that is causing problems?"

Taking a careful breath, Quinn nodded. "When I was tracking down Agent Voloran, she must have overheard me talking about Moff Broysc, and now she persistently pesters me about him. She keeps slipping his name nonsensically into conversations, just to annoy me. She says she won't stop until I tell her why I hate the man."

After a moment's silence, Jerusha lifted her shoulders. "Well, then. Why not tell her?"

Quinn began to sputter in outraged astonishment. "It's neither appropriate nor in the Empire's interests to discuss the matter with non-military personnel." He huffed in frustration, yanking his already-impeccable tunic back into place. "Besides. Knowing her, the details of Broysc's collapse at Druckenwall, and his and my subsequent conflict, would only give her more fodder."

As she watched him desperately trying to regain his dignity, Jerusha felt the rage that had built up within her begin to melt. Thinking back on the brief time she'd known Quinn, she realized it was the first time she'd seen him so out of sorts. Perhaps in his thoughts he reduced Vette to "the twi'lek" and her to "the Sith" and "the mirialan" (or was it the other way around?) but she felt a bit hypocritical harboring a grudge against him for doing so, when that way of thinking had been drummed into him all his life. Wasn't that what so irritated him about Vette?

She smiled to herself. "Have you tried asking her? Not _telling_ her, mind you, but making a polite request?"

His mouth pinched into a thin line. "One should not have to _request_ common courtesy."

_Oh, for goodness' sake. Are you six?_ Jerusha decided it would be unhelpful to point out to him that he was acting like a petulant child. Instead, she merely shrugged again. "Perhaps she's wondering if, beneath that perfectly composed demeanor of yours, you're truly a person. Just... talk to her, Quinn. If Moff Broysc isn't something that you feel comfortable discussing with her, tell her about your family. Or about how you first decided you wanted to be in the military. It doesn't have to be important, but it needs to be personal." He glanced to the side, his pinched mouth turning down at the corners, and she took a hesitant step toward him. "Please."

His attention snapped back to her in an instant, his expression suddenly sharp and contemplative. "If it matters to you, my lord, I shall do my utmost."

Jerusha resisted the urge to step back, away from the scrutiny of that intense gaze. Instead, she merely nodded once. "It does, Captain," she said, retreating to the comfort of formality. "If that is all?"

He nodded in reply. "I will return to my duties."

But as she turned to head back to her cabin, she could not shake the feeling that things would not return to quite the way they had been.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So here you have it! I am finally writing about another class. Jerusha Yoh is my almost-entirely-LS mirialan Sith Warrior. Her parents recognized her Force sensitivity early on and did what they could to teach her about it while also shielding her from both the Jedi and the Sith, feeling it best to stay out of galactic politics. However, in searching for someone who had unknowingly helped her family, Jerusha discovered something terrible, and she realized that repaying her debt would lead her far from everything she'd ever known.

This series will focus on the development of the relationship between Jerusha and the LI for the female SW, Malavai Quinn. I find him almost entirely unpalatable as he's written in-game; I just have a scathing disdain for any character who is that full of himself. (Nik, I'm giving you the evil eye as well, buster!) And in the SW storyline, you can kind of get him to loosen up somewhat... if you don't mind a bit of sexual assault. Eegh.

So between that and the Quinncident, I have had fix-fic plotbunnies breeding in the back of my brain for months now. (That's a rather unpleasant mental image. Sorry!) What tipped me over the edge was running through the Alderaan bonus series. I've already maxed out Vette's affection, and the conversations on Alderaan don't give affection points for any of the other companions, so I dug Quinn out of storage. After forgetting to switch him out a time or two I realized that he's actually pretty effective, particularly given that I haven't given him a stitch of new gear since he was shoved onto my crew.

That gave me the story idea that Vette was pretty banged up after a mission and they had more to do but Vette insists that Jeri not go out on her own and suggests she take Quinn along. Despite not having worked together in that capacity before, they actually make an effective team, and Jerusha finds that Quinn relaxes a bit when he's not stuck on the ship, and that she doesn't dislike him quite as much as she'd thought.

There _may_ be other stories along the way. I do adore most of the SW's companions - Vette and Pierce and Jaesa are all my bbs! Broonmark, alas, is just kind of big and growly.

Final note: This is a completely separate universe from the one with Vacy and her crew. There IS a SW in that 'verse who will be very tangential to the storyline.


	2. An Unexpected Change

**Scene 2: An Unexpected Change**

* * *

Sometimes Jerusha wondered if the reason the holoterminal was the central feature of the largest room on the starship was that Darth Baras wanted his projection to be as large as possible. It was a foolish, petty thought, of course, she reflected as she strode past it again for the umpteenth time, but then, Baras was certainly petty on a regular basis, and while she wouldn't dare to call him foolish out loud, she sometimes wondered about the wisdom of his plans.

Reaching the other end of the room, she leaned over and peered toward the ship's medbay, but it was impossible to tell what progress - if any - had been made. With a muttered curse, she turned and began to pace back the other direction once more. _No wonder Baras mocks me. I have grown overconfident, and that was a terrible mistake. Perhaps he is foolish and petty, but I have been reckless, and it nearly cost me the life of someone I care about. _Her hand clenched into a fist as she approached the holoterminal and she pulled it back... and then sighed. What would be the purpose? It would be a futile gesture; the droid would fuss and repair the equipment, and Quinn would say absolutely nothing as he applied antiseptic and an absorbent bandage. She leaned heavily against the terminal, shoulders drooping. "This is pointless," she muttered into the empty room.

Except that it was no longer empty. There was a cough behind her, and Quinn's voice: "You are correct, my lord."

She turned to face him, straightening instinctively, her eyes flashing. Did he dare mock her? For some reason the captain had a particular knack for getting her dander up.

But his expression was as unruffled as always as he walked toward her. "As I said initially, I had the situation well in hand. Vette's injuries, while substantial, were not beyond my capabilities, and while our medical facilities are not as extensive here as it would be in a full medcenter, I had the equipment necessary to attend to her. She will recover fully."

Jerusha took a breath, and then let it out in a long, heavy sigh. "What kind of Sith am I, anyway?" she asked bitterly.

"The kind who risks everything to protect those who matter to her."

His answer was as calm and immediate as if he were reciting disciplinary protocols, but his tone was gentle. She stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then looked away, not sure why this unsettled her so. "Well... I... yes, I guess so. How did you..."

Quinn simply lifted his shoulders. "It is the duty of _every_ Imperial citizen to aspire to such ideals of service. Your focus and determination are an example to us all."

Her brows arched, but she at least managed to resist the temptation to roll her eyes as she regarded him. "How is it that you can take something so personal and make it into such bland Imperial propaganda?"

He stood there at parade rest, as perfectly proper as always. "I suppose it is a particular talent of mine, my lord."

That surprised Jerusha into a half-second of silence. She peered at him almost suspiciously. "Quinn... did you just... make a joke?"

"Of course not, my lord. I have my reputation to uphold, after all. It simply wouldn't do to lose my title of 'Captain Tightpants.' Now if you will excuse me, I shall return to my duties." He dipped his head respectfully, then executed a sharp pivot and strode briskly toward the bridge. Just outside the hatch, though, he paused and looked back at her, adding, "And if I had, hypothetically speaking, done something so unseemly, I would ensure that there was no evidence and it could never be proven to have happened." With that, he stepped through the doorway and was gone.

* * *

It wasn't until the fourth time she looked into the medbay that its patient was actually awake. Jerusha walked over to the cot where the twi'lek lay, folding her arms with a smirk. "About time you woke up, snoozy girl."

Vette's smile was wobbly - possibly the effect of whatever drugs were still in her system - but impish as ever. "Jeez, whadda I gotta do to catch a break around here? C'mon, J, you know I need my beauty sleep!"

"Pff." Jerusha rolled her eyes, keeping up her playful facade. "If there's anybody on this crew who _doesn't_ need beauty sleep, it's you."

One blue _lek_ wiggled in consideration as Vette thought this over. "I guess you're right. I bet Captain Tightpants already slept for like a week to get that cutie mark just so." She rolled carefully to the side and grinned cheekily up at the Sith. "So that means it's my turn now, right? Maybe if I sleep a lot I'll get some nice big tits!"

This time, Jerusha's smile was genuine. "I don't think that's biologically likely," she chuckled, shaking her head. "And you need to quit calling him that! Have you said it to his face or something?"

"No!" Vette looked offended. "Gosh, can you imagine? He'd probably have a heart attack or something, because it's so very very improper and all." She put a hand to her chest, gasping dramatically. "Urk! Cannot... process... this interaction. Must... go fill out... paperwork!"

Jerusha made a face at her friend. "Well, he knows you call him that, anyway."

Vette lifted her head and peered at Jerusha. "Really? Well, I haven't said that around him. I mean, not that I know of." Her eyes suddenly got big. "Oooooo. Maybe he's spying on you!"

Blinking in confusion, Jerusha considered, then shook her head. "That makes no sense. We all live together - it's not like there are any real secrets."

With a broad grin, Vette batted her eyes at the mirialan. "Maybe it's because he's in luuuuuuuve with you. He thinks you're sooooo pretty."

Jerusha flushed and began to sputter. "What? No! It just - that's - no. Where did you even come up with that idea? I mean... did he _say _something like that?"

The twi'lek let out a soft, dreamy sigh and clasped her hands by her chin. "Oh no. He's the strong, silent type, you know. And so he pines in secret, hoping that one day you might glance in his direction."

That sounded awfully familiar. Jerusha rubbed at her chin, thinking back... "Hey." She folded her arms again. "Isn't that a line from a holovid? Did you... you just made all that up, didn't you!"

"What, did you think I was serious or something?" She started laughing, holding her sides, until she began to cough.

Jerusha stepped forward, the good-natured banter immediately forgotten. "Are you all right? Should I go get Quinn?"

Vette shook her head as she continued coughing. Finally the spasms subsided, and she took a few seconds to catch her breath. "I'm all right. Prob'ly just built up a bit of phlegm there. But, uh, that's kind of something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I don't understand." Countless terrible possibilities immediately came to mind - was Vette suffering from a terminal illness? Had she developed some kind of allergy? Was Quinn poisoning her? Was she interested in Quinn? Actually, that last idea had possibilities... it would certainly explain her fixation for teasing him so mercilessly...

"I think you should take Cutie Face along on your next mission." Blue eyes gazed gently up at brown ones, and before Jerusha could protest, Vette continued. "Darth Baras won't put up with you waiting for me to get better, and I'm in no shape to go with you. I'd be more of a hindrance than a help. And I'll feel better knowing that you're not out there by yourself. That there's somebody who has your back."

There was a tightness in her throat. Jerusha shook her head again. "He's not my partner. You are. I'll be fine until you're better. It's going to be okay. You'll see."

Vette reached over and slipped her hand into the Sith's. "It's not for always. Just for now, okay? I'll recover a lot faster if I'm not worrying about you so much. And I know I rag on him a lot, but..." She let out a sigh. "He knows his stuff," she admitted. "Just think it over, okay?"

Jerusha squeezed the hand that held hers. "I will," she replied softly. "You get some rest, now, all right? And watch it with the nicknames." Vette nodded with another woozy grin, and Jerusha let go of her hand and left the medbay, heading up toward the bridge, hoping that the twi'lek's tall tale didn't have any basis in fact.

Because that would make for an uncomfortable complication.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It's _not_ actually a line from a holovid; it's from _The Princess Bride_. I'm not sure if it's in the movie or not, but the book is better anyway. You should read it!

My husband has been marathoning _NCIS_ lately, and as I was writing the scene with Jerusha and Vette, I realized that I was hearing Vette's dialogue in the voice of Abby, their forensic specialist. It makes a lot of sense - they're both perpetually-cheerful with a devilish sense of humor. Also, Abby always wears double ponytails or double braids, so... it's almost like lekku!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
